Part 9

This stinging insult brought a shower of tomahawks and knives about his head. One of them pierced his arm, and pinioned it to the tree, but he bore the pain bravely, and smiling grimly back upon his captors, said--

"Let your young men come nearer, chief, so that a paleface may show them where lies his heart, for they are weak and unsteady with the fire-water of the Canadas, and they miss their mark."

The chief lifted up his hand, and said--

"The Great Spirit has given the paleface the heart of a red man, so that he fears not the hatchet and the tomahawk. Let us see if he fears the spirit of the flames."

A shout of hellish delight greeted this suggestion of their leader, and the Indians scattered into the forest to collect brushwood and dead timber, for an Indian delights in prolonging the torture of his prisoner.

Quickly the faggots were piled at the feet of the hunter, and the match was about to be applied, when the intense agony and suspense of the moment burst open the gates of slumber, and Jamie opened his eyes, and awoke suddenly.

The first faint tinge of dawn was lighting up the eastern horizon. He sprang to his feet, immensely relieved, and murmuring to himself--

"Thank God! 'Twas only a dream, then! And yet it was the same face that I have seen so often in my dreams. What can it mean?"

Then he turned and beheld the Young Eagle and the sleeping form of Black Hawk, but Swift Arrow was missing. He forgot his troubled sleep in an instant when he remembered that Young Eagle had watched with sleepless vigilance throughout the whole night, and said--

"My red brother is too kind. He should have called me, and let me watch, while he slept."

"Hist!" remarked the other, rising suddenly, and holding up a finger to indicate silence, as a slight rustle was heard amongst the bushes a few yards away. Both instinctively grasped their rifles, and stood ready for whatever foe might suddenly appear.

The branches parted, and Swift Arrow stepped quietly into the opening. This brave youth had spent the night in the forest, sometimes lying still as a log, at other times crawling and wriggling like a snake, or crouching like a panther. He had discovered the scouts of a cruel enemy, within ten arrow-flights of their present abode. He had done more.

He had succeeded in passing the scouts unobserved, and in penetrating to the very edge of the hostile camp. His unsleeping vigilance had saved the lives of his comrades, and he had even covered up his own tracks in returning to the camp, by taking a circuitous route and wading for some distance in the bed of a little stream, and had so well timed his efforts that he reached the camping-ground just as dawn was breaking.

Beyond the customary "Ugh!" he remained silent; though even Jack, who had now awakened, could see that he had something of importance to communicate, but he seemed already possessed of all the restraint of his tribe, and quietly sat down with the rest to a breakfast, which consisted of a little pemmican and hominy, which was soon finished.

"My brother has seen an enemy?" said Young Eagle, when the meal was over.

"Ugh!" replied Swift Arrow, as though he considered the news of little importance and scarcely worth the telling.

"Swift Arrow will tell us what he has seen?" said Jack, and then the young warrior spoke briefly and as follows--

"Ten arrow-flights towards the sun-rising is an Algonquin camp, of twenty-four braves--and one prisoner...."

"And the prisoner? Who--what is he?" asked Jamie, remembering his dream.

"It is the great paleface hunter, the friend of White Eagle."

*CHAPTER XIV*

*SWIFT ARROW DISAPPEARS*

"The paleface hunter, did my brother say? Is he the prisoner?" exclaimed Jamie, leaping to his feet, trembling with suppressed excitement.

"Hist! my brother forgets that an enemy is near!" said Young Eagle, raising his finger to request caution.

At this moment, after several cabalistic signs, Swift Arrow left the camp and quietly disappeared in the forest, and Jamie, expressing regret at permitting his feelings to gain the mastery over him at such a moment, resumed his seat on the ground.

"Whither away, Swift Arrow?" called Jack softly, as the Indian youth glided past him, but he either did not hear him, or heeded not his question.

"Swift Arrow has gone to the wigwams of the White Eagle, to say that his friend is in the hands of the Algonquins," said the Young Eagle, who had now assumed all the gravity and demeanour of an Iroquois chief.

"Phew! That means a journey of sixty miles at least. Rather a long step for a lad, who hunted all day yesterday and scouted all last night. When will he get there?"

"When the sun touches the tree-tops to-morrow White Eagle will know!" replied the young chief.

"Then he will come with all the warriors who are not away hunting, and fight the Algonquins?" asked Jamie.

"Ugh!" said the Indian, signifying yes.

"Perhaps that may be too late to save the paleface. I fear they will have put him to death," said Jamie gloomily. "Cannot we go and save him now?"

"Why, what's the matter, old chap? You seem very despondent," said Jack, as his comrade heaved a sigh deep enough to break his heart. "Do you despair of your life, that you want to throw it away so cheaply? If we are discovered by yonder crew, our lives are not worth a toss, and our scalps will be carried to the Canada lodges."

"The Wacondah has spoken to my brother, and his heart is heavy," said the Indian, looking straight at Red Feather with his piercing eyes.

"What is it, Jamie? Out with it. We agreed that there should be no secrets between us," said Jack, half in jest and half in earnest.

"Jack," said his friend solemnly, "I dreamt last night that I saw this paleface hunter in the clutches of the Algonquins. He was bound to a tree, and they were practising upon him every conceivable torture that even a red devil can invent. I saw him pierced and wounded, and the blood flowing freely from his head and face. Then, having tormented him to the utmost bounds, and finding that his brave heart quailed not beneath it all, they brought faggots and brushwood and kindled them at his feet. They were going to burn him to death, yes, roast him alive, while they danced around him in mad delight. But just as they kindled the fire, and my heart was bursting with grief and agony, because I was unable to help, I awoke, for I could bear it no longer. Then Swift Arrow returned and told what he himself had seen, but I believe that I saw even more than he did, for he saw not the tortures--and--and--I fear that we shall be too late when the chief arrives with his braves. That is why I wished to go straight to the camp now, and what is more, the face of that hunter is as familiar to me as your own, that is by night, for I have often dreamt of him before, but by daylight his features become indistinct, and I cannot recall his face. So now that is why my heart is so heavy! Cannot we do anything to save him?"

This last question was addressed to the young chief, who had been a serious listener to all that Jamie had just said, for the Indians take dreams very seriously, and treat them as messages from the Manitou.

"The Grey Badger is a great hunter, and his rifle has often left its mark upon the Algonquins, as well as the bear and the panther. Red men no kill him quickly. He is too great a prize. They will keep him till the new moon, and then kill him," replied the Indian.

"When is the new moon?" asked Red Feather hastily.

"Two days!"

"And when will our friends arrive?"

The young chief made the circle of the sun's course twice, and then pointed to the zenith.

"Then there is just a chance that we may be able to save him after all."

"Yes. For why should the Wacondah speak a lie?" said the Indian earnestly.

"What do you mean? I don't understand you!"

"Why, Jamie, it's as clear as noon-day what he means. He says, 'Why should the Wacondah speak a lie?' That is, if the Great Spirit has put it into your heart to save this paleface hunter, why should he withhold the means to do it, when He is all-powerful? The lad's faith in his God is greater than your own. So cheer up, and we'll save him yet, or we'll know the reason why."

"Young Eagle, I thank you. You have lifted a load from my heart, and your faith is greater than mine, though I have been bred in a Christian country," said Jamie.

"Ugh! My paleface brother has often told me of the sacred writings in the land of the sun-rising, and how the Great Spirit has spoken to his white children; why, then, should he disbelieve the words of the Wacondah?"

This conversation was suddenly interrupted by an Indian whoop, which seemed to come from the distant camp.

"What can that mean? Listen! There it comes again," said Jack. This time it was repeated from several quarters.

"It simply means that they have been joined by another party of their friends," said the Indian.

"What can they be doing so far away from their own hunting-grounds?"

"Depend upon it, they are here for no good. They're out for scalps, and to harass their inveterate foes, the Iroquois, and any Yengeese woodsmen they can lay hands upon."

"Must we remain here, like rats in a hole, Young Eagle? Is there nothing that we can do?" said Jack.

"Yes! We must watch all their movements, and if they move, follow them, leaving a broad trail that White Eagle can follow in the dark."

"Lead the way, then, Eagle, and we'll follow your trail."

Then they crept stealthily from their lair, and cautiously advanced through the tangled forest, in the direction of the camp, for now that the enemy were excited by the arrival of their allies perhaps they would be a little off their guard.

Soon they struck the trail that they had seen on the previous evening, and followed it carefully; sometimes creeping on their hands and knees, crawling through the brushwood, watching furtively the while for any signs of the outlying scouts who were sure to be guarding the camp.

Suddenly the hiss of a serpent caused them to start. It came from the direction of the young Indian, who was but a few paces in advance, and was the signal for them to halt and lie still. Immediately they became as dead logs, hugging the ground.

Had the Eagle seen the first scout?

Yes, surely! What was that dark object creeping through the forest, not fifty yards away? Was it not the skulking form of a redskin prowling about like a wolf, and all the while coming nearer and nearer. He had evidently not seen them as yet, for he still continued to approach, but he seemed so wary and so alert that if he continued he must discover them within another minute. Jamie covered him with his rifle, but he was too wise to shoot, unless all other measures failed, as the crack of a rifle so near the camp would alarm the whole party and bring the Algonquins upon them in a moment.

Slowly, slowly the seconds passed, and each one seemed in itself an age. They scarcely dared to breathe, lest the slightest sound or movement should attract the attention of the scout.

He was only ten paces from the young chief when he halted, as though his suspicions had been aroused. He was looking full in the direction of his enemies, when some fluttering object in a bush, near the Iroquois lad, caught his attention. He would examine that particular bush before giving the alarm, so he advanced cautiously, looking warily around him.

He was a young warrior, perhaps out for his first scalp. How kingly it would be to return to the camp with a scalp at his girdle, and without boasting, quietly to take his place at the council fire, while all eyes were fixed upon that trophy which he had won, unaided and alone.

The dark-eyed Indian maidens, too--how they would glance at him with love-lit eyes and point out the trophy, and sing of his courage when he returned home. Perhaps these thoughts were in his mind as he approached the bush. One thing, however, he must avoid, that was, creating a false alarm and thereby making himself a laughing-stock amongst his comrades by mistaking a tree or a log for an enemy.

This temerity cost him dear. To reach the bush which had aroused his suspicions, he had to pass within a few feet of Young Eagle. As he did so, the latter made a sudden bound, like a panther springing upon his prey, and cleft his skull with his keen hatchet.

Without a groan even, the Algonquin sank to the ground, and his spirit passed to the hunting-grounds of his people. The youths turned their faces away, whilst the young chief secured his first scalp. Having obtained this trophy, he next dragged the lifeless form of the scout into the forest and hid it away amongst the bushes, lest its discovery should bring down upon them a swarm of hornets, in the shape of the inmates of the neighbouring camp. Then he proudly retraced his steps in the direction of his companions, who were eagerly awaiting his return.

"Was it well done, Young Eagle, to risk all our lives and our chances of saving the hunter for a single scalp?" asked Jamie, who felt somehow that his redskin friend might have left the scalp alone, for the present, at any rate, forgetting in his anxiety to save the paleface that an Indian will go without food willingly for a whole week in order to obtain one scalp.

"Young Eagle is a warrior! He saw only an Algonquin dog!"

"But prudence is a virtue, even in a great warrior!"

"Let him alone, Jamie. For an Indian to leave an enemy's scalp behind is a disgrace, and just as dishonourable as for a paleface to leave his ensign in the hands of the enemy," said Jack.

Their present position was one of great danger, though for the moment the death of the scout had reduced the chances of their being discovered. Nevertheless, their only chance to avoid the enemy was to find a spot where they could lie hidden till dark, for the scout would be sure to be missed shortly, and then a search would be made for him.

A spot was found not twenty yards away, on the edge of a little rivulet that ran through the forest. They, therefore, took a circuitous route to this stream, and then walked cautiously down the bed of the rivulet, so that the water would wash away their footprints in the sandy bottom. Having gained this secluded spot, they were hidden from sight of an approaching enemy, owing to the branches of the willows and alders drooping to the ground and meeting the tangled undergrowth, and they could yet watch the surrounding forest through the interstices of the branches.

Here they lay hidden during the rest of that day. As the afternoon wore on they several times heard the whoops and yells of the Algonquins, and once they heard the report of a rifle, and Jamie feared that it denoted the end of the paleface prisoner, but the young chief said that that was very unlikely.

This close confinement at length became very irksome, and the youths were so wearied and impatient that it needed all the influence and sagacity of the Indian to urge them to remain till sunset. How wise this counsel was will shortly be seen.

"Hist! What does that mean, Young Eagle?" said Jamie, when rather late in the afternoon a sound very much like the "cawing" of a rook was heard to proceed from a spot scarce a hundred yards away. No answer was given, and the sound was repeated twice; each time it sounded a little nearer.

The Indian did not speak, for he was keenly scrutinising the forest in the direction of the sound, and at the same time unconsciously fingering his tomahawk, while his every sense seemed alert.

"'Tis another scout who seems to expect a reply from his fallen comrade, I fear, Jamie," said Jack, "and he can't understand why he gets no answer."

"Ah! He is becoming suspicious. He is searching for him, and--and--he's coming this way," whispered Jamie.

"Look! I can see him now through the trees. What if he finds his dead comrade? Hist! He's looking this way."

Nearer and nearer came the Algonquin. He was within forty yards now, and within twenty feet of where his companion had been slain. Suddenly he started and a half-smothered exclamation escaped his lips. He was looking at the ground, examining it carefully. He knelt down and carefully removed the turf and leaves, raising his head every few seconds, as though expecting to see his comrade.

Had he discovered a trail, or something worse? He was only thirty feet away from the mangled corpse of the first scout. He was only ten feet away from the spot where the death-blow had been given. It was the trail of his lost comrade that he had discovered, but what next?

It was a moment fraught with intense excitement for the watchers. The issues to these three adventurers were life or death. Once he discovered the truth that was hidden in those bushes, a single call for assistance would fill the forest with blood-thirsty hornets, and all would be lost.

What could be done? He was too far away to be dispatched like his comrade, and a rifle-shot would alarm the camp. Step by step he advanced. Then his eager eyes caught sight of the fresh blood-marks and evidences of the recent scuffle.

The Indian gazed at the red spots, and followed their trail to the bushes. Then, as his eyes caught sight of the mangled corpse, he uttered a blood-curdling yell that made the dark aisles of the forest resound. At the same instant Jamie's rifle spoke out, and the Indian fell to the ground.

Five seconds had scarcely passed when from the camp there came the answering yell. It was a wild, fierce cry of revenge that brought the whole pack upon their trail.

*CHAPTER XV*

*THE TRAGIC CIRCLE*

There was not a moment to lose. The two youths seized their rifles and plunged into the forest.

"This way, Jack. Come!"

"Lead on, quickly!"

Young Eagle remained but a few seconds to take the victim's scalp and to give the defiant war-whoop of the Iroquois, and then he, too, followed in their trail.

On they went. Their only chance of saving their lives now lay in putting as great a distance as possible between themselves and their pursuers, and in keeping up the race till dusk. 'Twas getting dark already, but they stumbled on through the tangled undergrowth, over fallen trunks lying prostrate across their pathway.

Several times they heard the yells of the Algonquins, and once they heard the crack of a rifle, followed by an Iroquois yell.

"Listen! That's Young Eagle's rifle, I'll swear. He's either missed our trail, or he's purposely misled them to give us a chance of getting away."

"Then I fear it's all up with him," cried Jamie, who was a little way in advance. "That second scalp has cost him too dear."

'Twas getting quite dark now, and they were compelled to slacken their pace, partly from sheer exhaustion, and partly because they were constantly being tripped up by ground vines, trailers and fallen trunks.

Once they got separated, and Jamie thought that he heard Jack call him. He halted and listened, but hearing the swish of branches close behind him he thought that his comrade was following, and continued for another ten minutes, when, coming to a little clearing, he glanced back, but saw no one following.

"Jack!" he called softly. "Where are you?" but no answer came back from the gloom.

Again he called--louder still, but only the cry of the night-raven and the screech of an owl gave reply. Then he retraced his footsteps across the clearing, but he failed even to discover the spot where he had left the forest. Five--ten minutes he remained there, searching for his own trail, but in the darkness he had lost his bearings, and not only Jack, but he himself was lost!--lost!

Endless leagues of trackless forest, of brown tree-trunks, and dark, dank undergrowth, closing in upon him like a thick screen, separated him from the nearest habitation, and even the nearest fort. What was to become of him?

In his despair he threw himself down upon a rough, raised bank that ran part way round the clearing; then he remembered that fancied cry, back there by the swamp, when he had thought for an instant that Jack had called him by name.

"'Twas not fancy, after all!" he murmured. "It was Jack calling for help; it must have been. Perhaps he sank in the swamp, or perhaps the Indians attacked him from the rear suddenly and quietly and he died calling my name."

Then the agony of his soul knew no bounds, for he felt that he had wilfully deserted his comrade, and in his despair he longed to die.

"Ah--to die! That would be easy, if only Jack were here. We have too often faced death together to be afraid, but this wild loneliness unmans me," and here the lad broke down and sobbed in his bitterness.

This weakness, if such it can be called, was of short duration, however, for certain sounds fell upon his ear in the stillness, that told him something or somebody was approaching. A rustling amongst the branches, a heavy but stealthy tread amongst the tangled undergrowth. All this came from the forest not fifty feet away.

There was just enough light to see half-way across the small clearing. His every faculty became alert, and he instinctively raised his rifle, examined its priming, and fixed his eyes at that spot where the object must leave the forest to enter the clearing.

Perhaps it was Jack--at last. Should he call? Better wait and see. Perhaps it was an Indian, though the footfall seemed too heavy. What could it be?

The next instant a shaggy head was thrust out from amongst the bushes, scarce twenty feet away from where he sat, and then a huge brown bear shambled into the clearing, stopping every few yards to raise his snout, and to sniff the air, as though it scented danger.

Jamie's left hand slid down, almost unconsciously, to feel if his hunting-knife were there, lest his rifle should fail him. The bear caught the movement, quick as it was, and looked suspiciously in the direction of the youth.

Having reached the middle of the clearing, the huge monster reared itself up on its hind legs, and beating the air with its fore-paws, began to advance in the direction of Jamie.

Jamie forgot every other danger in the face of this new one that now threatened. He forgot also all his fears, in his desire to overcome the bear. 'Twas to be a fair fight and no favour, and unless he killed "Bruin," then the beast would kill him.

With steady eye and steady nerve Jamie levelled his rifle, as the bear shambled towards him, uttering a low growl, and preparing to hug his victim in a fatal embrace. The youth knew the vulnerable spot in that thick, shaggy hide, and if he could only place his bullet there it would end the combat, but on a dark night like this could he do it?

He was about to pull the trigger when a strange diversion, entirely unexpected, occurred.

A plumed and painted warrior, from the Algonquin camp, hot upon the trail of the young paleface, quickly entered the clearing and almost rushed into the embrace of the huge monster. Discovering his mistake, and uttering a sudden exclamation of horror, the warrior fell back in dismay, and dashed into the forest, followed by Bruin, who left his erstwhile enemy and suffered him to escape. The branches closed upon the bear and the Indian, and they were hidden from sight.

"Thank God I didn't fire!" exclaimed Jamie, as he slipped quietly into the forest in another direction, thanking Heaven for this double escape, and taking hope, for he felt that God had not deserted him, and would somehow deliver him from his still terrible plight.

On he stumbled in the darkness, till he came to a little stream. Here he stooped to quench his burning thirst and to bathe his face, for he was fevered with excitement, after the quick transitions of feeling he had undergone since they alarmed the camp.